


the grass below — above, the vaulted sky

by aconissa



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Fluff, Literature, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Romance, can be read as either, mention of charles darwin and the beagle voyage, they talk about poetry because they're NERDS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-08 00:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15231147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconissa/pseuds/aconissa
Summary: Harry Peglar and John Bridgens lie together under a tree on a summer's day, thinking about love, life, and poetry.One of three gifts for my gfgothmacsfor The Terror Fanworks Exchange 2018





	the grass below — above, the vaulted sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gothmacs](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gothmacs).



> Full title would have been 'Untroubling and untroubled where we lie, the grass below — above the vaulted sky', from the poem 'I Am!' by John Clare. I feel like Bridgens would have been a fan.
> 
> This fic was written for my girlfriend [gothmacs](http://gothmacs.tumblr.com/), who I was lucky enough to get in The Terror Fanworks Exchange 2018 (organised by [pileofsith](http://pileofsith.tumblr.com/)). Her request was 'Peglar and Bridgens reading together under a summery sky in a field somewhere'. Technically they're under a tree in a field, but hopefully you'll forgive that babe ♥ 
> 
> This fic can be read as either pre-canon or post-canon, you decide! I purposefully didn't include reference to the Franklin expedition to keep that open. I've worked with both the show canon and the book canon, so for those who are only familiar with the show then a few quick points. In the book, you learn that Bridgens and Peglar first met when they were on Charles Darwin's Beagle voyage in the 1830s. Canonically, Bridgens taught Peglar basically everything he knows, and in the years after the voyage they were lovers. Peglar is therefore aged up slightly in this fic, because he looks younger in the show. I imagine him around 40 here, like he is in the book.
> 
> Along with the other 2 fics I wrote for the exchange, this is the first time I've written fanfiction in 4 years. So apologies in advance for any mistakes/inconsistencies/general bad writing
> 
> Comments and kudos would mean the world! [Come say hi on tumblr any time.](http://aconissa.tumblr.com/)

‘Do you _truly_ not believe in Heaven, John?’

The question broke the silence that had fallen between them. Harry and John had been lying in the shade for some time, the latter absorbed in a book while Harry had laid his head in a patch of sunlight and – so John had thought – gone to sleep.

‘No,’ he replied slowly, ‘I do not. Have you examined why it is that you _do_?’

Harry smiled, his eyes still closed. Even after all these years, John still phrased every question like an ethical debate. ‘I tried. When you first told me to question everything I had been taught, as any teacher was as capable of folly as any other man.’

‘Oh yes. Perhaps not the wisest thing to tell you so early on, considering I was the teacher himself.’ They shared a smile, the recognition of a treasured memory shared.

‘But,’ Harry continued, ‘if there is no Heaven and no God, then how do we explain the creation of the world around us?’

John sat up straighter against the tree trunk, eyes fixed on the leaves swaying above him. ‘Those are two very different things, Harry. The world is an extraordinary place, full of natural wonders. We may question how and why they came into being. But that does not necessitate that the answer _must be_ that a divine force created them, and then by extension that this divine being _must_ reside in the Kingdom of Heaven. You should focus on understanding the mechanism for life, rather than taking an existing unproved theory and assuming it must be true.’

Harry’s eyes were open now, and he nodded as he thought. He did not seemed chastened or perturbed by John’s words, but rather thoughtful. These were questions they had wrestled with before, but neither had a strong explanation yet. ‘Perhaps I still believe in it because there is something comfortable in the idea of a Heaven.’

The older man nodded. ‘I think that is the case for many people.’

‘But not for you?’

‘But not for me.’

They slipped back into silence. John watched the way Harry stared up into the trees, his dark brows knitted together. He loved the way they could talk like this, puzzling over matters of God and existence without it ever causing a rift or discord between them. There was only one human being whom John had ever felt truly safe speaking to like this, and it was the man lying before him.

‘Why?’ Harry eventually asked, turning towards him now.

‘Simple. I do not take comfort in the idea of Heaven, because I am happy enough on earth now. I have no need for a perfect afterlife. Life is a blessing enough, anything more than that would feel… extravagant.’

This made Harry laugh, his entire face brightening as he did so. _If only he could see himself as I do_ , John thought, _then he would understand precisely what I mean_. He smiled at the younger man, reaching out to stroke his cheek with fingertips roughened by years of sea air. ‘Moments with you such as this mean I have no need for a heaven.’

Harry’s expression softened, his hand lifting to grasp John’s and keep it held against his skin. ‘You are ever the old romantic, John Bridgens.’

John shifted until he was leaning over Harry, then dropped down to press a soft kiss against his lips. ‘A lifetime of reading poetry and years with the perfect muse, how could I not be?’

He moved again, now lying back on the soft grass with his head pressed against Harry’s chest. Harry played idly with the greying hairs at his temple, both of them listening quietly to the wind passing through the trees.

John looked up at the puffs of clouds moving above them. ‘“I am the daughter of Earth and Water,”’ he began, waiting only a moment before Harry continued ‘“and the nursling of the Sky”. Shelley, John? I thought you favoured Coleridge.’

He chuckled. ‘I do, but there’s something I enjoy about “The Cloud”. So much to say about such a simple thing.’

‘And Shelley was another atheist.’ Harry smiled down at where John’s head lay.

‘So he was.’ John reached out to hold Harry’s hand, their fingers tangling together. He looked up into the branches, where birds sat chirping between the leaves. ‘Do you remember the birds we saw on the _Beagle_ voyage?’

‘The little finches on the islands, or those parrots on the mainland?’

John smiled at the memory of young Mr Darwin running to catch his precious finches. ‘No, the parrots. With their extraordinary colours. I’d never seen the like in England, they were so beautiful.’

‘Are you bringing them up as an example of how no God could exist,’ Harry teased, ‘if _they_ may have parrots and _we_ have only robins and wrens?’

John laughed. ‘I was simply reminded of them, but perhaps you have a point. Any member of the Church of England would surely argue that God loves our country best, so why deprive us of such wonderful birds?’

Harry rolled his eyes, but there was no sting in his expression. Only love. ‘For such an intelligent man, you are capable of such absurdity at times.’

‘Perhaps,’ he replied with a wink. ‘But in all seriousness – my opinion of heaven will remain unchanged.’

Harry sighed. ‘Do you really think the world is so perfect, John?’

‘Not the world – my life, with you.’

Harry did not speak, but the soft squeeze of his fingers where they lay entangled with John’s was response enough. 

John had meant every word he had said, and he knew his opinion would remain unchanged. He had lived a great many years and had loved a great many times, but nothing could compare to the unconditional tenderness and peace he felt in the presence of Harry Peglar.

That fateful day when they met on-board the _Beagle_ would stand in his memory as the day he truly became John Bridgens. The preceding years would always be marked in his mind as _before Harry_ , and every year afterwards would be _with Harry_. As John loved to tell him, it was as Plato had once said – they had been two lonely halves, waiting to find one another and finally become whole.

Here, in the shade of their favourite tree, John had finally found his heaven. What god could improve on this?


End file.
